


a moment apart

by tusslee



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Kind of vague, M/M, Spoilers, and what happens when noct returns, brief explination of what's going on with prom those ten years, prompto-centric, time for feels, very bittersweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tusslee/pseuds/tusslee
Summary: Ten years is a long time and with every day that passes, Prompto feels further and further away from the past. He still dreams of Noct, of better days when the four of them burnt daylight by standing around on a dock while Noct fished a lake dry. He dreams of sunsets and sunrises because he hasn’t seen one in so long he’s beginning to forget what they look like.





	a moment apart

**Author's Note:**

> hello, yes, I like to suffer. I hope you can enjoy suffering with me~

Ten years of darkness inevitably makes for some shitty shots. 

Prompto can’t remember the last time he managed to snap a good picture that wasn’t sharp with unnatural fluorescent lights or too dark to really make out whatever the focus was supposed to be, so he kind of gives up. 

Losing his love for photography hurts, but it’s just another thing that fades as time passes. It feels like he’s chipping away pieces of himself and it’d started with the biggest fracture when they lost Noct. 

Noct, who was his best friend and one of few people he really truly cared about. After that, he still had Gladio and Iggy sure, but Gladio buried his grief in whatever work he could find and became distant as he ran from their ugly reality, and Iggy… Iggy had a grief all his own that Prompto couldn’t understand even when he tried. Every time he offered to help, he was politely denied and sent away until he was once again on his own. 

He didn’t hold it against either of them and he knew full well that tragedy either brought people together or tore them apart. He had just assumed that this kind of thing would pull their tiny tightknit family a little closer rather than send them in complete opposite directions.

But between Hammerhead and Lestallum, Cindy and Aranea, Daemons and the fight for survival, Prompto doesn’t have a lot of time to wallow in self-pity. Often, he’s running around dragging supplies from one city to the next, picking up survivors and taking them to Lestallum, or running solo hunts for a little extra pocket change that hardly matters most of the time. People trade more than they buy outright nowadays. 

He spends a lot of time in Hammerhead not only because Cindy keeps his head on straight when he feels like falling apart, but because it’s the one place that still feels kind of like home. He’s wanted, needed here so he lends his hands and learns how to take an engine apart and put it back together. 

He’s become an even better shot since he added illuminated night sights to his guns. He’s learned how to track with his ears rather than his eyes and make every bullet count. He’s fallen in love with the smell of gunpowder and metal all over again, the weight of the gun in his hands, the kick against his shoulder, the fall of his hunt. He’d never enjoyed killing things before and he didn’t suddenly start when the darkness refused to give in, he just knew he had no other choice and if he could rid the world of one more monster while waiting patiently for Noct, well, he’d hunt for as long as necessary. 

Ten years is a long time and with every day that passes, Prompto feels further and further away from the past. He still dreams of Noct, of better days when the four of them burnt daylight by standing around on a dock while Noct fished a lake dry. He dreams of sunsets and sunrises because he hasn’t seen one in so long he’s beginning to forget what they look like. 

He doesn’t cry much anymore, but sometimes when he lies down to sleep he lets himself feel the pang of loneliness, of an ache so deep it settles in his bones. He’s hardly ever _really_ alone, but damn if it doesn’t feel like it after years beside Noct and countless days spent pressed between three of his closest friends in a tent far too small for four men. 

 

On the day Noct returns, Prompto is elbow deep under the hood of a hunter’s (who he’s forgotten the name of) truck. His hands are slick with grease so Cindy answers his phone, pinning it between her cheek and shoulder as she greets Ignis. 

The news sends him reeling, steals the breath from his lungs and makes his eyes sting with unshed tears. He doesn’t believe it. He won’t believe it until he sees Noct with his own eyes. Cindy hugs him tightly, her own tears rolling freely down her cheeks, and he feels what little shreds of hope he has left begin to knot themselves together again.

The years have not been kind to any of them. Each of them is adorned with new scars and none of them are afraid of dying anymore. 

Noct looks like his father, Prompto notices as soon as he sees him. It’s a bittersweet thing and Prompto doesn’t mention it out loud. 

The four of them stand around looking at each other like idiots, like they haven’t seen each other in ten years or something. All Prompto wants to do is wrap Noct up tightly and sob grossly against his neck because _he’s missed him so much_ , but he stands his ground and forces his wobbly smile into a genuine grin. 

Noct greets all of them in turn, slaps Gladio on the back, bumps fists with Prompto, and rests a gentle hand on Iggy’s shoulder. His smile is tired and his appearance overall is haggard, he looks like a man stretched to the point of breaking, but he stands strong and launches himself headfirst into the life he’d missed for so many years. 

It feels like nothing has changed, but at the same time this is not the man that Prompto remembers, yet he’s still very much _Noct_. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he wrings them together until Gladio steers them into the diner turned stronghold for food and weak, weak coffee while they draw up a plan to move forward.

They have quite the journey ahead of them, but Prompto can think of nothing he’d rather do. He’d sworn his life to the Prince years ago and now his King has returned ready to use them to their full potential and Prompto will not let him down if it’s the last thing he does and chances are it very well may be. 

“What’s one more night of camping, eh?” Gladio smiles, elbows Prompto like no time has passed. He helps pitch the tent and remembers one of the very first times they went camping. He’d broken one of the poles in half after bending it too far and they’d had to sleep beneath the stars. At least it hadn’t rained.

When they’re sat around the fire and there’s nothing left for them to do, Noct tries to talk about what’s on his mind, but he can’t seem to find his voice. There’s so much he wants to say, Prompto can read it on his face, but he can’t find the right words. Prompto is sure they all know what it is that's on the tip of his tongue, but they wait patiently anyway. Well, he and Ignis do.

“Spit it out already.” Gladio grumbles.

“I’ve made my peace.” Noct eventually says, gaze lingering on each of them. “Still, knowing this is it and seeing you here now, it’s… more than I can take.” His voice is watery and Prompto watches the tears slide silently down his cheeks. His heart breaks because he’d known this was coming and he’d had ten years to prepare, but it’s still not easy. It will never be easy. 

He doesn’t bother hiding his own tears, lets his head hang and forces the words out, “Yeah. You’re damn right it is.”

“Huh. You spit it out.” Gladio grunts beside him. 

Ignis sighs, leans forward on his elbows, “It’s good to hear.” He says. 

Noct stands, hands spread in front of him and eyes flickering around his best friends before settling on Prompto, “Well, what can I say?” Prompto rubs at his face, fighting back the urge to flat out sob into his hands. His tears just keep coming, he can’t remember the last time he cried. “You guys… are the best.” 

It hurts. 

Knowing this is goodbye, it really fucking hurts. Prompto doesn’t care about being the tough guy anymore, that’s never been his forte anyway, so he scrambles from his chair to throw his arms around Noct. Noct holds him, hands trembling against his back. “I missed you so much.” Prompto cries, finally voices all this pent up emotion that he’s refused to acknowledge for far too long. Ignis and Gladio both echo the sentiment, both obviously stronger men than Prompto because they remain in their seats. 

For a long time none of them speak. Noct holds Prompto while he cries, shoulders shaking and breaths coming too fast. Gladio stares at the fire while Ignis worries the cup in his hands. Prompto can feel Noct’s own tears drip against his shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about much more than the feel of Noct’s hands rubbing soothing circles into his back, the familiar scent of his best friend. 

Eventually, the waterworks run their course and the chill of the night air ushers them into their tent. The four of them lie sprawled out next to each other, elbows knocking and legs brushing beneath countless threadbare blankets. None of them are sleeping, Prompto knows this without having to look. Noct is stiff beside him, fingers worrying the edge of a blanket. Prompto rolls onto his side and reaches out to still his hands. “We’ll be alright, y’know?” He says because he knows it’s not his own death the King is worried about and sure, it’s kind of a lie, but he doesn’t know how else to reassure Noct. 

“You’ve been alright for the last ten years without me,” Noct laughs, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” That sounds like a lie too, Prompto thinks.

Prompto wants to tell him that they’ve been far from alright, but he knows now they’ll at least have some closure, not that that makes up for much. Noct takes his hand, an intimate gesture that Prompto has missed more than he realized. He tugs him closer until he can wind an arm around his waist. “I’m sorry,” Noct starts.

“Don’t apologize.” Prompto cuts him off.

“…that I didn’t do this sooner.” Noct finishes and cups Prompto’s face gently as he kisses him for the first and last time. 

_Oh_ , Prompto thinks, _you had better be sorry_. 

Everything aches in a way that he knows sleep will not help. Only time can mend wounds this deep, but even then he wonders if ten years did nothing to ease the pain before, what will ten more do?


End file.
